Lucky
by BandaidChan
Summary: Shuichi had never considered himself unfortunate. However, Maiko killed herself, and now his family rejects him for it. He’s going down the same road Yuki himself went down. Despite having been there, Yuki is at a loss for how to help.
1. Shocked

It started with something as unthreatening as a telephone call. That undeniably annoying ring, echoing through the near empty apartment, and alerting both men to an incoming call, was the starting of Shuichi's trouble. The singer was seated beside his busy lover, attempting occasional conversation. He knew when Yuki had a flow going, he wouldn't be stopped for mundane conversation. So when the phone rang, the possibility of conversation caused him to all but fly from his chair, and to kitchen. Once, before Shuichi completely invaded his life, Yuki had the phone in his office for easy access, but moved it after realizing how much Shuichi used it.

His sock feet slipped on the finished wood, but Shuichi didn't stop until the receiver was against his ear. "Hello!" he greeted giddily, smiling regardless of the fact that no one was watching. Shuichi found facial expressions in the tones of people voices.

"_Hey Shuichi!"_ It was the ever-diligent Hiro, once again saving him from the potential boredom that came with a vacation.

"Hiro!" he sang, switching ears. The phone was stationed on the edge of the counter, so Yuki could stand in the doorway, peering into the living room just to make ignoring whoever dared bother him so much easier. He also rearranged the furniture so the television faced him as he did this. Shuichi however, found all the distraction too annoying, and always chose to perch on the counter when talking on the phone.

He lifted himself onto the hard marble-imitation at the same time as jumping head first into conversation. "How's your vacation so far?"

There was a chuckle from the other end. _"Good, actually. Ayaka came from Kyoto two nights ago, and it's been heaven ever since." _

"Heaven?" Shuichi questioned incredulously. "You mean you finally bedded the girl?"

Hiro sputtered, and Shuichi could hear the clatter as he dropped the phone. Hiroshi was still sputtering as he picked the cordless from the floor, but Shuichi suspected that he was just being overdramatic now. It wasn't like Hiro was a virgin or anything. He had his fair share of sexual play in high school, while Shuichi's only high school sweetheart was his keyboard.

"_I didn't bed her!"_ He sounded genuine, _"I've been a perfect gentleman. She isn't a whore, you know. Not everyone jumps into the sack with the first pretty face they see, Shuichi." _

Now it was Shuichi's turn to sputter. "I'm not a whore!" Hiro laughed before Shuichi could say anything else. "I'm not!" As an after thought he added, "I'm only Yuki's whore." (Hiro stopped laughing, though now the singer suspected his face was twisted into a grimace, rather than a mocking grin.) "Anyways," he continued. "If it's been heaven having Ayaka around, why did you suddenly decide to call?"

"Are you that imposed? I'm sorry! I thought we were friends—" 

"No! I love you! You never impose, never!" Hanging up now would mean making a nuisance of him if he went back into Yuki's office.

"Ayaka left around an hour ago, and I'm lonely. I haven't seen you in a couple days, so I thought, why not spend the rest of the vacation with my best friend, Shuichi?"

"I don't know if you're only using my ever loyal friendship to fill the void Ayaka left, or if you're intentions are pure." Shuichi laughed, swinging his feet.

"Always pure, and I'm offended you'd think otherwise!" 

The younger of the two opened his mouth to reply, but a rather surprising beep cut him off. He sideway glanced at the phone beside him, noticing the _'call waiting' _warning displaying where Hiro's number was once written. "Ah, sorry Hiro. Hold on a minute, someone's on the other line."

He pressed the _flash_ button with his index finger before Hiro could reply. Though he was curious, his cheery greeting didn't change, and his smile seeped through his voice. "Hello?"

"_Shuichi?"_ The voice belonged to an older woman, who sounded worn down. There was a hint of something laced through the breathy escape of his name, and all Shuichi could think of that this woman had been, or even still was, crying.

"Speaking…" he wasn't sure what to say. Curiosity was overwhelming him. His smile dropped into an expression of worry. "What's the matter?"

"_This is your mother,"_ the woman said after a pause, obviously understanding the confusion in her son's voice. _"You can't even recognize your own mother?"_

It certainly didn't sound like his mom. Shuichi knew his mother as a bright woman, ripe with understanding only a mother would possess. She wouldn't snap at her son for no good reason. Shuichi began to assume he had forgotten something important, maybe a birthday of some distant aunt or something stupid like that? Her voice was hoarse, though, too much so for just a forgotten event.

"Sorry, mom! You sound so tired, I didn't recognize your voice instantly!"

"_I should sound tired,"_ the woman agreed. "_You, however, sound chipper than ever."_

"Yeah," he mumbled. It sounded like his mother was scolding him for being happy, which wasn't common. When he was still living with his immediate family, they always encouraged him to smile, even when things got hard. "What's wrong?"

She didn't answer right away. The singer recognized the sound of sobbing that filled the silence. "Mom? What happened? What's wrong!"

"_You…"_ she hiccupped, _"you ungrateful brat."_

Now he was really taken aback. His own mother was very angry with him, and he had no clue what he did. Her words replayed over and over, leaving welts in his memory, replacing kind words the older woman had said to him as he was growing up.

"W-What? I'm sorry if I missed a birthday… But—"

"_Ha!"_ the laughter was a cold bark, and contradicted the sob that followed it. _"You're so stupid, Shuichi, so unbelievably _stupid!_ A birthday? You think I'd be this torn over a birthday?"_

"No… I'm sorry."

"You should be sorry! But sorry won't cut it, it won't bring back my little girl!" 

Shuichi's eyes widened as numbness took over his body. The harsh words were still replaying, over and over, causing his eyes to water. Her little girl would be Maiko, Shuichi's own sister. What did she mean by bringing her back? Did Maiko run away?

"Wh…What?" He wasn't comfortable with the quake in question.

"_Murderer!"_ His mother whispered sharply, and then repeated it. _"Murderer, murderer, _murderer_! You murdered my baby girl! You murdered Maiko!" _

His ability to speak escaped him. All he could do was attempt to think of what happened, and why his own mother was suddenly accusing him of killing Maiko. As far as he knew, he did not go out on a rampage, sneak into his parent's house, and murder his baby sister. He didn't jump behind the wheel of a car, and he didn't run down anybody, much less his own flesh and blood.

"There has to be some sort of mistake," he whispered, now with tears falling down his cheeks. "I didn't…"

"_Not physically, but mentally. You destroyed her enough to make her kill herself! You…She left a note! She said she couldn't stand being known as Shuichi's sister, and having everyone crowd her, everyone use her, to get to you!" _By this point Shuichi's mother was crying so hard that it was nearly impossible to understand what she was saying.

"_Much less,"_ the woman continued after having caught her resolve. _"Much less having her own brother forget about her, in the process." _

"I didn't!" He cried loudly, alerting Yuki who was still in his study. "You're wrong, _she's_ wrong! I didn't forget about anyone! I love Maiko, and I love you and dad! I didn't mean for anything like this…" the singer couldn't breath, it felt like his chest was constricting.

"_No! You didn't think about any of this! You never even assumed that your family would have hardship, and you didn't keep your promise to her! You didn't keep in touch with her…"_ it sounded as though she wasn't crying anymore, taking whatever comfort she could from Shuichi's distress.

"I'm sorry!" he sobbed, clutching the phone like a lifeline.

"_Good! Don't ever come around us again, you're not allowed back! I don't want to see you again, not ever. I _hate_ you! _We all hate you_!"_

The line went dead. Soon enough all Shuichi could do was sit there and listen to the dial tone. The conversation had already faded, causing details to become unclear. Soon all he could remember was the constant accusation of "Murderer, murderer, murderer!" Shuichi dropped the receiver. It scraped against the expensive counter before hanging listlessly by the cord. The kitchen around him no longer seemed to exist, and the distraught boy found himself in a blurred white world.

He fell from his spot on the counter, not bothering to catch himself. As he lay crumbled on the floor of his white world, sobbing so hard he began to gag, he vaguely heard urgent footsteps and the voice of his best friend calling to him, faintly.

Before he even began to realize what was happening, he was pulled into the warm embrace of his lover. Due to his wet face, the tears began to fall faster than before—which also caused his blurred vision to clear. Yuki was staring at him with a concerned expression, but all Shuichi could do was start to cry harder.

"My—My—my— _Oh God_!" He was hyperventilating, struggling out of the hug Yuki pulled him into. Gasp, hiccups, and sobs all tried to come out at once. It seemed impossible to inhale. "I can't _breathe_!" he cried loudly in a strangled voice, before sobbing again.

Yuki didn't know what to do. He let Shuichi out of his arms, and watched helplessly as the boy hunched over. He was shaking violently, and his face was turning red. He honestly could not breath. Yuki rubbed circles on the Shuichi's, but it didn't seem to help at all. Shuichi continued to cry, his body heaving for air.

"Shuichi!" Yuki called desperately, unsure if he had been saying the name out loud or not more than he just this once. It was the only word he was able to think at the moment. He was shocked to see his lover so distraught after watching him merrily spring from his office only minutes before. "Calm down, breath!" Shuichi couldn't calm down, and the words only seemed to upset him more.

At that moment, Shuichi threw up. With his hyperventilating, he choked on it. Sputtering and gasping only caused him to gag more. After vomiting again, the boy suddenly went slack. Even through his shock, Yuki registered what was happening and was able to grab Shuichi before he fell into the puddle of his own vomit face first. The novelist pulled him against his chest, and held him still for a moment.

He was relieved when he seen that Shuichi was still awake. He was breathing heavily, still, and his eyes were still clouded with tears. "Shuichi…" Yuki mewled, still unsure of what to do. His own shock was fading. His heart however was sinking more and more as he recognized the void expression Shuichi now bore.

With lips flecked with tears and vomit, Shuichi mouthed, "I'm a murderer."


	2. Confused

Yuki closed the door hesitantly behind him, leaving only a slit open for light to seep into the dark room. The author was unsure about leaving Shuichi alone after his break down, but the boy was subdued and quickly falling asleep in the middle of Yuki's queen sized bed. It was only 2:00 in the afternoon, but Yuki figured a decent nap would be a good idea. Shuichi wasn't able to form a coherent sentence since his unnerving announcement, much to the annoyance of his lover.

The bedroom was located at the end of the hallway, and the kitchen/living room was at the opposite end. The smell and sight of vomit greatly disturbed Yuki, so he took a detour into one of the smallest rooms along the way, the storage room. It was neatly organized, though had a ratty quality. The temperature was cooler than the rest of the house, due to the fact that it was rarely used. On the back wall was a wooden shelf lined with bottles of cleaning sprays, rags, scrubs, buckets, and almost anything else used in housekeeping.

When he first moved on his own, his sister and (at the time) sister's fiancé had the biggest habit of dropping in unannounced. Oddly enough, they didn't shake the habit years later. When they would sneak in late at night, Yuki would often times be laying beside a pool of vomit and beer—having drunk him into unconsciousness. After the third time of that happening, they brought over supplies for cleaning up his messes. Now, he was thankful for there intrusion.

He grabbed one of the two buckets, the larger one, and began to randomly select cleaners from the shelves. Most of the sprays had the intent to be used on larger spills; Yuki assumed his situation could be considered a 'large spill'. Next to the wooden shelf were a broom, and two mops. He gripped the thick metal pole of the red mop, and pulled it free.

With a gray bucket full of cleansers in one hand, and a mop in the other, the novelist finally set to the task of cleaning Shuichi's mess. The phone was still dangling from the counter. A dial tone and mechanical womanly voice could be heard from a distance. It was quickly giving his already distressed mind a headache, so his first action was to step over splatter and put the phone back on the hook. The author, turned cleaning man, put his supplies against the counter and started to run water.

He filled the bucket with a cleaning solution that the label declared to 'works miracles' as the water poured. Yuki watched the running water, with only his eyes regarding it. His mind was else where, to Shuichi, and to his past. He recalled the dead look in Shuichi's eyes. The sparkle that he associated his bubbling lover with was completely gone, and what's worse is, he recognized the lackluster expression from his own reflection. It had been in the days that followed his teacher's death that he'd look into the mirror and be chilled to the bone by his own blank stare.

Yuki didn't have any time to delve deeper into his memories. Water gushed from the sides of bucket, spilling over and rinsing out all the cleaning solution. "Shit," he cursed as he twisted the faucets tightly. More water spilled from the sides as Yuki tried to dump some out, this time large drops fell the floor.

Mopping up some one else's mess was degrading. Bordering on the rich side, Yuki thought he'd never have to lower himself to that of a custodial worker. He was, after all, famous, and he did have money. Although, the more he thought of it, the more he realized that Tohma had done the same thing when _he _was just starting to be famous. Had Tohma ever thought the same thing?

The author remembered one time in particular, coming home from the bar in the ungodly hours of the morning to the site of Tohma, who appeared to have been waiting for hours. He saw enough of his bearings to realize that his sister was asleep on the couch, her long brown hair cascading over the cushion. She looked sad, though Yuki didn't care enough. He was too far-gone into his own intoxicated glory to really realize the emotional stress he was putting his family through.

Not long after Tohma eased him into pajamas, did Yuki collapse onto the floor and vomit. He distinctly tasted the bar food. The keyboardist lectured him again about his habits, but the eighteen year old didn't care to listen to the drug talk again. He just didn't care.

When he woke up the next day, Tohma and his sister were gone, and everything was cleaned up.

Though he knew Shuichi wasn't going through the same thing, Yuki felt he could (if only slightly) relate to what Mika and Tohma must've felt during his rebellious stage. Not knowing what your loved one was going through, not knowing what they were going to do, and not knowing how to help was scary.

While watching Shuichi's throw up mix and swirl with the soapy water solution the author sifted through possible situations. Perhaps, the phone call was from Hiro, informing him that the guitarist quit Bad Luck. The call could've been from his crazy manager saying that Shuichi's vacation was cut short—and the singer simply over reacted. Maybe Shuichi's adored grandmother died of cancer? The list went on, but the worst thing Yuki could think of was that Tohma decided to drop Bad Luck from the label.

"A little degrading don't you think?"

He turned around to face Hiroshi. The guitarists' hair was windswept, and he was slightly panting. Hiro held his biking helmet under his left arm, while his right hand was clenched at his side. What unnerved Yuki most was the murderous glint in his brown eyes. "A tad." Yuki replied.

"What did you do to him?"

Admittedly, that took Yuki aback, as he had assumed Hiro himself was what caused Shuichi's break down. Though, Hiro was a shot in the dark. It wasn't any surprise Shuichi's friend instantly blamed Yuki; it was, however, annoying. How did Hiroshi even find out about this?

"Have you ever heard of knocking?" The blonde sighed, setting the mop aside and stepping out of the kitchen. Hiro was at his heels, glaring at the back of Yuki's head.

"Just answer the question!"

Though the novelist was slightly more than frustrated Hiro waltzed in unannounced, pointing fingers, he enjoyed toying with him. It was a sort of mental payback. Yuki sat on the couch heaving a sigh as he did. When Hiro stood in front of him, face still contorted with anger and showing no signs on moving, Yuki felt his patience snap. He narrowed his golden eyes, burying deep into the hidden fear and confusion in Hiro's orbs.

"Though you don't deserve any answers out of me, if it will get you to leave sooner, I'll tell you that I didn't do anything." He growled. "I walked into the kitchen where Shuichi was already on the ground, crying hysterically."

He lit the cigarette that dangled from his mouth. The smoke burned at his throat. Hiro opened his mouth, drawing in his breath with a ready reply. "Now," Yuki cut him off, "you owe me answers. Why are you here, how do you even know about all this, and what did you do?"

Whatever composed answer Hiro was ready with before escaped him, as all he was able to say was an electrified, "Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

"I didn't do anything to Shuichi! We were talking on the phone, when he had an incoming call. The next thing I know, the line comes back with the sound of Shuichi crying himself sick."

Yuki inhaled his smoke, contemplating the situation. "I guess we're in the same boat."

Realizing that anger wouldn't get him the response he wanted, Hiro sighed and sat down beside Yuki. He put his helmet on the cushion beside him, before digging in his jacket pockets for his own cigarettes. No one said a thing until Hiro was inhaling his own cancer stick. After the soothing affects of nicotine set in, the longhaired guitarist felt calm enough to ask Yuki's opinion on what had actually happened. Yuki didn't give a straight answer, because he'd be damned before he admitted any of his crackpot ideas.

Soon Hiro was on his feet again with wide eyes, as he seemed to remember something important that had escaped his mind when he barged in. "Where's Shuichi?"

"Sleeping." Yuki sighed.

The novelist was sure Hiro would sit back down, and began to attempt conversation again. Instead the other man stayed on his feet. Awkwardly, he grabbed his helmet from the cushion before turning to face his host. "Call me when he wakes up, then." There was a haunted quiver in his voice, which churned Yuki's gut. The honest concern that Hiro had reminded Yuki that the bonds of friendship were strong, and for the longest time he didn't have it.

Once he pulled the trigger on Kitazawa, Yuki assumed it was just himself against the world. Now he knew that Tohma sincerely wanted the best for him, to help.

The door closed gently, knocking Yuki from his musings. He hadn't even realized he was daydreaming. When he looked around the room, he noticed Hiro was gone. An engine revved faintly from outside, which Yuki supposed was either a goodbye, or a threat.

Yuki wasn't sure how long he just sat on the couch, thinking of his past, and picking up on all the things he missed. He remembered all the sympathetic glances, the touching shows of love, and all the small things that were meant to remind him that he wasn't being judged.

When he was conscious of the time, Yuki noted it was nearing five.

Meaning, Shuichi had been alone for three hours, give or take. He had no clue if the singer was sleeping or not. Hopefully he was, because if Shuichi was anything like him, Yuki knew time alone would not be good for his already broken mental state.

He knocked once while opening the door. The light from the hall grew, outlining the form of Shuichi on the bed. Surprisingly, he hadn't moved since he first lay down, and his eyes were open.

"Shuichi?" Yuki whispered, feeling awkward. The realization that he didn't know how to act around depression slapped him in the face. Had he not seen Shuichi's violent break down, he surely would've gone back to his study to work, thinking that Shuichi's troubles were trivial.

He moved swiftly to the bedside, then debated sitting or not. The boy didn't bat an eyelash, but simply stared at the ceiling with blank eyes. The expression on his face told Yuki that Shuichi wasn't all there right now, in a state of consciousness, though lacking awareness.

In fact, as Yuki sat next to the young man, he was very sure Shuichi didn't even realize he was there. That's why, when Shuichi's voice broke the silence (loud as ever) Yuki jumped in shock. "Yuki." The tone suggested that the singer was just greeting him, showing regard to his presence.

"What happened?" Yuki asked gruffly. He was still uncomfortable and now embarrassed with having being scared.

"I'm a murderer." Shuichi said for the second time that day. Without missing a beat, he went on. "Did you know I missed her birthday? It was last week. I totally forgot." Yuki didn't say anything. "Maiko and I used to be so close… I can't tell you how many times we were mistaken as twins, even though she was younger than me."

He trailed off, his eyes still distant as if he was relieving the memory. Yuki moved closer to Shuichi, laying down awkwardly beside him, and then wrapped an arm around his shoulders. Shuichi had to shift positions to accommodate to Yuki, finally blinking out of his stupor as he did. Instantly his walls began to crumble, and tears leaked from his dry eyes. Now his throat was raw, making his voice hoarse. Yuki changed positions again to embrace Shuichi fully.

"She killed herself… but it was my fault… It was my mom on the phone, and she told me what Maiko did… And she told me about the n-note, how Maiko said it was my f-fault…" though his voice broke, Shuichi didn't cry again. If it hadn't been for the tears wetting his shirt, Yuki wouldn't have known. "Mom says that I'm not allowed back."

Again he stayed silent, just holding Shuichi in his arms. The singer seemed content with just being held. Though he was confused, his mind reeling with Shuichi's dialogue, Yuki didn't voice his questions. He didn't know how Shuichi would react, and he didn't want to risk a relapse. Five minutes passed with only the sound of breathing and sniffling, when Shuichi—with a voice mumbled signifying he was half asleep—asked, "how can I go on knowing I killed someone I love?"

Another five minutes passed with out a sound, Yuki making sure Shuichi was asleep before replying with a tighter embrace.

"I didn't know, either."

* * *

Yuki minimized 'fan fiction' window, where his open word document hid behind it. With his hands poised over the keyboard, he dramatically announced, "that hath given me new inspiration to write!" leaving poor Shuichi to wonder what the fuck was going on in there as he walked by.

Well, there's the second chapter for you all to enjoy. Once again, and I know I say this like everytime... I'm sorry for any mistakes! I didn't run this through with my beta, but that's okay...

Anyways, thank you all for the reviews. They touched me specially... on the heart.


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